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the will, commanding and requiring the individual to enter upon the proposed course at once? Every one must see that this, except in cases where a person has deliberately surrendered his will to another, as in that of the soldier, would certainly defeat his own purpose. If, therefore, he would indulge the hope of succeeding, he must act upon the Will, by taking advantage of the relations which it sustains to other parts of our mental nature. Accordingly, he commences his attempts by an appeal to the understanding, endeavouring to show, by plain and incontrovertible statements, the practicability, propriety, and benefits of his propositions; and he knows perfectly well, that, unless he succeeds in convincing the understanding, he has no prospect of rousing the will to action, and that the probability of a favourable movement on the part of the volitional power will be in proportion, or nearly so, to the favourable position of the intellect.
§ 7. Illustration of the statements of the preceding section. On the death of Julius Caesar, Antony is represented by Shakspeare, who well knew what process was requisite in effecting such an object, as endeavouring to stir up a " sudden flood of mutiny." But he does not command the multitude, who, in their state of want and ignorance, are ready for almost any purpose, whether good or evil, to go forth at once, and consummate his projects of fire and slaughter. Too shrewd an observer of human nature for this, it is worthy of notice, that he addresses neither the will nor the passions till he had first made a lodgment in the understanding. After saying, in excuse of his coming to speak at Caesar's funeral, that Caesar was a just and faithful friend to himself, he goes on to state (what probably were the plain and undoubted facts in' the case), that Caesar had brought to Rome many captives; that by their ransom-money he had filled the public coffers; that he had wept over the sufferings of the poor; and that he had refused a kingly crown at the Lupercal. These statements, which were mere facts addressed to the understanding, and some of them at least, and probably all of them, were incontrovertible, of course laid the foundation for a change in the passions, as they were designed to do. And the people, who just before had called Caesar a tyrant, and were glad that Rome was rid of him, now began to admit, under the influence of a nascent leniency of feeling, that there was much reason in Antony's sayings, and that Caesar had suffered wrong.
Having thus prepared the way by removing the hostile feelings that antecedently existed, he now began to ply them in another direction. He told them of the greatness of Caesar; of the power which he had once exercised; of his ability to stand against not one nation merely, but the whole world, though now so low that none would do him reverence. And when, still continuing to approach the feelings by facts first addressed to the perceptive powers, he further proceeded to show them the bloody mantle, and to speak of the Testament which bequeathed to them his bountiful legacies, the passions, which had already begun to quicken in Caesar's f avour, were kindled to a flame. It was then that the object of the speaker was accomplished, as he foresaw it would be. There was no want of motives, no hesitancy of the will. The multitude, with this new basis of action thus adroitly laid in their intellectual natures, were no longer the friends of Brutus; nor were they indifferent and idle spectators. But rushing from street to street, and seizing such weapons as their purposes required, they called for revenge, slaughters, and burnings. »
§ 8. Nature of the connexion between the intellect and will. Presuming enough has been said, at least for the present, in support of the actual existence of the connexion we are inquiring into, we are now prepared to say something of its nature. Although the connexion really exists, and is of very prominent importance, it is not meant to be said that it is a direct one. In other words, the Intellect, whatever opinions may have formerly prevailed on the subject, is, in no case, in direct contact with the Will. When, therefore, we speak of the operation of the intellect upon the will, we mean an indirect or circuitous operation; that is to say, one which is carried on through the mediation of the sensibilities, under which term we include the various forms of the natural or pathematic emotions and of the desires, together with moral emotions and feelings of obligation.
The appropriate and distinctive object of the Intellect is knowledge. But knowledge alone has no tendency to control volition. It is possible for a person in the exercise of his intellectual powers to possess unlimited knowledge, to explore and exhaust every field of inquiry; and yet, if his knowledge be unattended with feeling, if it be followed by no form of emotion or desire, or obligatory sentiment, it will leave the Will perfectly indifferent and motionless. Any other supposition is at variance with every day's experience.
A certain person, for example, comes to the conclusion, after a long train, of reasoning, that the possession of a definite amount of property would be beneficial to himself and family. This conclusion is of course the result of a purely intellectual process. But if it be not followed by sentimentive action; in other words, if it be unattended with emotions, desires, and feelings of obligation, it will altogether fail to arouse the will to activity or to secure a single effort. In the constitution of the human mind, everywhere so full of wisdom, the Sensibilities, which are as different from the will as from the intellect, are located between the two. They form the connecting link which binds them together. To strike out the sensibilities, therefore, is necessarily to excavate a gulf of separation between the intellect and the will, which is forever impassable. There is from that moment no medium of communication, no bond of union, no reciprocal action.
§ 9. Opinions of Locke and Mackintosh oh this point. Here is one point, as those who are acquainted with the history of philosophical opinions will probably recollect, on which writers on the Will have sometimes fallen into great error, viz., in placing the intellectual in juxtaposition with the voluntary or volitional power, and supposing the latter to be under the direct operation of the former. Mr. Locke himself seems to have been of this opinion at first, and to have pub- • lished to the world his belief, that the understanding, forming an estimate of what is the greatest good, is the direct and immediate means of controlling the Will. But he afterward, on more mature examination, announced, with the honesty and love of truth for which he is so celebrated, his decided change of opinion.—" It seems," says he," so established and settled a maxim, by the general consent of all mankind, that good, the greater good, determines the will, that I do not at all wonder that, when I first published my thoughts on this subject, I took it for granted; and I imagine that by a great many I shall be thought more excusable for having done so, than that now I have ventured to recede from so received an opinion. But yet, upon a stricter inquiry, I am forced to conclude, that good, the greater good, though apprehended and acknowledged to be so, does not determine the will, until our desire, raised proportionably to it, makes us uneasy in the want of it. Convince a man ever so much that plenty has its advantages over poverty; make him see and own that the handsome conveniences of life are better than nasty penury; yet, as long as he is content with the latter, and finds no uneasiness in it, he moves not; his will is never determined to any action that shall bring him out of it. Let a man be ever so well persuaded of the advantages of virtue, that it is as necessary to a man who has any great aims in this world, or hopes in the next, as food to life; yet, till he hungers and thirsts after righteousness, till he feels an uneasiness in the want of it, his will will not be determined to any action in
pursuit of this greater good."—" For good," he says in another passage, "though appearing and allowed ever so great, yet, till it has raised desires in our mind, and thereby made us uneasy in its want, reaches not our wills."*
He was satisfied, on repeated examination, and on the most mature reflection which he could give to the subject, that the mere intellectual conviction of what • might tend to the greatest good has no effect upon the Will till it has first excited within us desires after that good. And we find the same view taken by other writers on the mind. The following expressions of Sir James Mackintosh show what were his convictions on the subject.—" Through whatever length of reasoning the mind may pass in its advances towards action, there is placed at the end of any avenue, through which it can advance, some principle wholly unlike mere reason, some emotion or sentiment which must be touched before the springs of will and action can be set in motion."f
§ 10. Power of will and intellect not perfectly correspondent to each other.
But, although the Intellect thus lays the original foundation of the acts of the Will, we are not necessarily to infer that there is an exact correspondence and proportion between them. In other words, we are not to infer that the vigour of the Will is always in exact proportion to the expansion and vigour of the Intellect. It was a sagacious remark of the distinguished painter Fuseli, which we venture to assert a careful observation will fully confirm, that nature does not always "proportion the will to our powers /" meaning by the last expression our perceptive or intellective powers. "It sometimes," he adds," assigns a copious proportion of will to minds, whose faculties are very contracted, and frequently associates with the greatest faculties a will feeble and impotent."% The
* Essay concerning the Human Understanding, book ii., ch. xxi., § 35, 46. t View of the Progress of Ethical Philosophy, sect. v.
X Cunningham's Lives of Painters, art. Fuseli.